


Changing Colours

by blacktofade



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: First Time, Incest, M/M, Painting, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezio buys a paint set and Federico puts it to good use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Colours

He blames Leonardo for ensnaring his curiosity the moment he finds himself purchasing a small painting set from a local vendor, the brushes crisp and new, smelling completely unlike the dye-stained one scattered around Leonardo’s studio. He doesn’t even get to use it until a week after, his time and thoughts too preoccupied by the missions put to him by others. He almost forgets the set is there until he tugs a shirt off his desk and the tubes of oils roll off and spread across the floor in disarray. Bending to scoop them up, Ezio finds himself deciding to put his spent money to good use by setting up a new canvas and painting something, anything, precisely at that moment.

He pulls an old easel from his cupboard and sets it front of a chair, a small table nearby overloaded with different pallets and multicoloured paints, before he sits himself down and stares at the blank material. He will admit that he thought it would be easier; he never knew inspiration took so long to come, so he takes to doodling small patterns in different shades, filling one corner of the sheet before he sets his brush down and thinks a little more about what he’d truly like to paint.

Leonardo’s subjects are beyond his wildest dreams, but he thinks he could manage a small copy of the room he’s in if he’s careful with details. He only wishes he could remember what his tutors taught him long ago when he was schooled in all matters, from arithmetic to spelling to charcoal drawings, where his fingers blackened more than the page ever did. For a brief moment, he shuts his eyes, picturing the smooth strokes he once saw from his teacher, the way the wrist rolled fluidly with every move. He imagines it must be like sword fighting, the same rotations and gentle jabs of the brush as one would while parrying, but before he can put the idea to motion, he finds himself falling into a light doze, the exhaustion from his day’s work finally curling over him.

It is some minutes before he has the strength to rouse himself, but he has the distinct feeling it is not entirely his fault because there’s a tickling sensation on the end of his nose that feels remarkably like a house fly come to annoy and bother. Without opening his eyes, he swipes a hand across his face and attempts to fall back asleep, his drawn out days and even longer nights getting the best of him. It is only a few moments before the itching begins once more, but this time upon his brow.

Ezio stirs and draws away from the feeling, his eyes slowly opening.

“I was attempting to improve your appearance,” Federico says, crouching before him, paintbrush in hand, blue oils staining his knuckles. “However, it appears that no amount of paint will fix that.”

Ezio is quick enough to knock the brush from his brother’s grip before winding an arm around his neck and tugging him into a tight headlock.

“Take it back, or I shall show no mercy.”

Federico laughs, fingers digging into Ezio’s ribs where long days of boyhood tussling once found tender, ticklish spots, ones now gone with time.

“Never,” he replies and shifts, throwing their weights to one side and sending them off balance from the chair. Ezio rolls with the fall, hoping to pin Federico underneath him, but instead finds himself narrowly missing an elbow to the nose before his brother pins his hands to the floor and kneels over his waist, holding him down with greater strength and weight. Ezio sags as though admitting defeat, but Federico doesn’t concede, seeming to predict the arch of Ezio’s back and the way he attempts to throw him off suddenly.

Without allowing Ezio to gain the upper hand, Federico pulls a length of twine from his pocket as though he’s planned it all along, winding and twisting it around Ezio’s wrists, knotting it entirely too well for his own good as it doesn’t loosen, even when Ezio tugs with all his might.

“After I get free, brother, you will always have to sleep with one eye open, else you may find yourself in a tricky situation.”

“ _If_ you get free, dear Ezio,” Federico drawls, reaching for the long lost paintbrush and the pallet already covered in thick oils of many colours. “Now, all I need decide is how to paint my canvas.”

“This is my best shirt; if there is the slightest mark on it, you will not live to see tomorrow’s sunrise.”

Federico huffs a laugh, but his free hand trails down Ezio’s chest before sliding back up and beginning to unfasten the material. It falls open without help and Federico takes up the brush, hovering the paint-covered end dangerously close to his skin.

“You will regret this until the day you die – which will in fact be very soon,” Ezio threatens.

“I think I decorated your face well, brother, I am only attempting to do the same to the rest of you. Think of how popular you will be with the ladies once you resemble their favourite sewing patterns.”

Ezio wriggles in anger, but doesn’t move his tied hands from above his head.

“Do it only if you dare,” he whispers and only a second later feels the cool sensation of paint against his heated skin. He would be lying if he said it was not soothing in the warm summer day’s heat, but he struggles against it for appearances. “If I cannot remove it with one wash, you had better be ready to pay the consequences.”

“Never fear,” Federico replies, lavishly smoothing the paintbrush across Ezio’s collarbone, smearing it with red. “I am sure I saw a bottle of oil in your supplies; it will be gone in an instant – if you are lucky enough that I do not hide it from you.”

“You fiend! I would insult your mother if she were not mine as well.”

“Well, that is lucky,” Federico chuckles tracing the brush over the curve of Ezio’s shoulder before pausing and looking thoughtful. “I think we need another colour.”

He paints Ezio’s other shoulder blue, the line long and curving all the way to his bicep. The faint tickling on the tender underside of his arm makes his fingers twitch with the need to scratch and the sticky oils do nothing to help. It’s yellow that Federico uses next, dragging the brush across the hollow of Ezio’s throat before tracing slowly up his neck and under his chin, the paintbrush rasping when it slides over his stubble.

“Release me while you still can and your punishment will not be as harsh as it will be if you decide to continue.”

Federico has the audacity to laugh at his bargain, painting straight across Ezio’s mouth before Ezio can even close it, leaving the distinct tang of paint on his tongue. He glares and Federico shrugs.

“It would serve you well to keep your lips firmly together, brother. I am sure these are not toxic, but we had better not chance it again.”

“Then do not put them near my mouth,” Ezio snaps, ignoring the advice. Federico turns the paintbrush around, sliding the wooden handle across Ezio’s lower lip, tugging it down and revealing Ezio’s clenched teeth.

“But it is such a pretty one,” his brother replies with laughter in his eyes. “I am sure it pleases all the young women you meet.”

“More than your own, I am positive.”

Federico hums thoughtfully then leans down, mouth dangerously close to Ezio’s ear.

“Mine does not please young women,” he whispers and Ezio shifts, trying to pull his head away, but Federico leans in laughing, pressing his lips softly to the strong curve of Ezio’s jaw, leaving him blinking, mouth slightly open.

“I did not realise you felt that way about animals, brother,” Ezio jokes and Federico gasps in mock-shock, pulling a face as he sits back, lips curving into a lazy smile.

“As you are dense, Ezio, I shall let you in on a little secret,” Federico replies smirking as he leans in closer once more, keeping his voice quiet. “My mouth pleases men.”

As hard as Ezio tries, he cannot keep the surprise from his eyes.

“You will be arrested,” he says in shock, amusement entirely gone. “You will be hanged if you are found guilty.”

“There is no sodomy involved, Ezio, the worse they can do is jail me.”

“It is not worth it,” he says, voice demanding Federico to agree. “Surely it is not worth it.”

“I have yet to experience one that is not,” he says, drawing his paintbrush up and smothering the bristles with a deep green colour. He slides it between Ezio’s nipples, dragging lower and itching his skin. He watches as Federico carefully outlines the muscles of his stomach, each one twitching sensitively with every brush stroke. He swirls it once around his navel, before glancing back up at Ezio’s face and meeting his eyes before painting lower, all the way to the edge of his trousers.

“This has ceased being funny, brother,” Ezio says quietly and Federico tosses the paintbrush behind his back, the pallet to his left, splattering paint across the stone floor carelessly.

“What is it instead?” he asks, as though Ezio should be feeling anything other than shame. “If I said the sight of you exactly so was not appealing I would not be telling the truth.”

“It is incest, brother, another punishable offense.”

“One that would also be entirely worth it.”

He dips his head to Ezio’s chest, fingers pressing into Ezio’s side, where only a thin layer of muscle covers his ribs. His lips barely graze the skin, breath hotter than it should ever feel burning against his flesh. Ezio brings his hands down from above his head, although they are still tied together, and pushes at his brother’s face, urging him to move away, to stop.

“In all the years we have spent at each other’s sides, growing and learning together, this request I cannot grant you.”

Federico takes his hands, kissing his knuckles gently before carefully untying Ezio’s wrists, tossing the string aside without a glance.

“Allow me just one thing,” he asks and Ezio cannot find it within himself to shake his head negatively.

He bows lower, face looming over Ezio’s own, even as Ezio’s eyes widen in realisation. Before he can utter another word, Federico slides their mouths together, one hand curling around the side of Ezio’s head, fingers gently playing with strands of his untied hair. He’s surprisingly gentle for the man Ezio knows him to be, his lips soft as Ezio yields and allows him closer, mouth pliant with surprise under Federico’s.

Just one, he tells himself, even as Federico’s tongue presses its way between his parted lips, drawing him in further. Ezio feels Federico’s weight pressing down onto his waist every time he shifts and changes the angle of their mouths and he doesn’t even think before bringing a hand up to his brother’s hips, his fingers finding heat even through the layers of clothing. Federico responds instantly, his own fingers tightening, tugging Ezio’s hair just enough to draw a small, embarrassing noise from him, and Ezio knows he never should have allowed the kiss to begin, but it’s too late as Federico tips Ezio’s head back further and presses down harder.

All he can taste is the tang of wine on Federico’s tongue and the bitterness of the paint still on his own lips that he knows must now be on his brother’s too. His eyes ache with the strength he uses to keep them closed tightly and the hand not in Ezio’s hair comes up to his face, gentle fingertips dancing across his cheekbones, softening out the creases, and silently urging him to relax. He tries, but his attention is too focussed on the pressure of Federico’s chest against his own, helping to press the air out of him with every uneven exhale through his nose; he can’t stop thinking about how wrong they are for allowing this to happen.

He tries to speak Federico’s name to make him cease his actions before they sail past the point of no return, his limbs too heavy to even attempt to push him away, but all that leaves him is a muffled noise that sounds less like his brother’s name and more like a plea. Federico’s mouth presses against his more fervently, his hands falling away from Ezio’s head and face, instead trailing down his body. Ezio feels his knuckles brushing his stomach and it’s with a twist of anticipation in his gut that he realises Federico is undoing the red sash around his waist. Hands already there, it’s easy for Ezio to grab his wrists and halt him quickly.

Federico pulls away, and Ezio, only just out of breath, feels his mouth and skin thrumming from the burn of his brother’s stubble, the way his pulse seems to rest within the fullness of his bruised lips. Federico stares quietly down at him, his cheeks tinged red, his mouth even more so, and Ezio waits for some sort of rationalisation to pop into his mind, but nothing comes.

“You said to allow you only _one_ thing,” he blurts and Federico tugs his arms free, sliding the material from his body and flinging it to the side.

“This is part of that one thing.”

Ezio can feel the shame sitting high on his cheeks and he glances away, staring instead over Federico’s shoulder at the pattern on the curtains.

“Ezio,” his brother says softly, gripping his chin between thumb and forefinger, turning his face until he is forced to look at him. “Brother, what are we if not those who break the rules? Isn’t that how you spend your days?”

“I break rules to grant freedom to those suppressed by unfair decrees. I have no qualms with laws set up to stop men bedding other men.”

“Not even for love?”

“We are family. You are obligated to love me.”

Federico tucks a lock of escaped hair behind Ezio’s ear, his thumb gently tracing down his neck afterwards.

“All the more reason to break the rules then. For love and family.”

“You ask too much of me, even as my brother, _especially_ as my brother.”

He glances between their bodies, finally noticing the paint smudged across Federico’s clothes, the green marks fitting in surprisingly well, as though they belong there. He traces his finger across the oils that have smeared across his brother’s pale skin from where his shirt hangs low and open, and he feels Federico watching him closely. Only a beat passes before Federico mirrors his actions, following the same path down Ezio’s own chest and Ezio meets his eyes, heart thrumming loudly in his throat. Wherever he trails his hand, Federico’s is quick to mimic and it’s more of a test than anything as he brushes aside his brother’s shirt, thumbing gently at one dark nipple. When Federico does the same to him seconds later, he lets out a whoosh of air, barely keeping his back from arching.

He pulls his hand away, but Federico doesn’t move, fingers trailing up Ezio’s chest, up his throat, to his mouth, where they press insistently against his bottom lip. He keeps his teeth clamped tightly shut, refusing to give in so easily, but Federico is not his brother for nothing; he rolls his body down against Ezio’s own, nudging parts of him that leave him groaning quietly, lips parting before he realises what has even happened. Federico’s fingers slip into his mouth as he laughs, pressing the amused line of his lips to Ezio’s cheek.

“You are far too easy to manipulate,” he whispers straight into Ezio’s ear and Ezio nips his fingers in annoyance.

“Only because you have known me my entire life,” he says, or tries to around the intrusion. Two can play that game, he thinks, and it’s with a loud, exaggerated moan that he sucks on Federico’s digits, coating them in saliva before licking them off again. He meets his brother’s gaze as he tips his head back, his own eyes hooded with heavy lids as he swallows and lets Federico push his fingers in as far as they will go. The noise Federico lets out sounds as though he’s taken a clenched fist to the stomach and Ezio barely contains his laughter, even as his brother bends his knuckles and presses down against his tongue, triggering the faint beginnings of his gag reflex. Federico scoffs quietly and pulls his fingers free, pressing the wet tips to Ezio’s face, leaving sticky damp prints everywhere he touches.

“Luckily,” Ezio begins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I have known you almost your entire life too.”

He waits for his brother to retort, but, instead, Federico leans down once again, leaving peppered kisses across his chin, following an unknown pathway to the square of his jaw, where he digs his teeth in sharply. Ezio hisses and pinches the soft skin of his brother’s waist in response. He can’t hear it, but he can feel the huffed laugh Federico breathes out upon his throat.

“I should call the guards here myself and turn you in,” Ezio says and Federico replies between kisses to his skin.

“They will arrest you too now that you have given in.”

Ezio draws back, head thudding dully on the stones below, his face drawn and tense.

“I haven’t given in yet.”

Federico hums thoughtfully then unexpectedly trails his hand up the inside of Ezio’s thigh, his fingers pressing in through his trousers, outlining his cock where it twitches, already half-hard in anticipation.

“Forgive me,” he says not entirely seriously. “I thought this was a hint.”

“You are infuriating,” Ezio replies before rolling, throwing his weight against his unsuspecting brother and forcing them over until it is Federico pinned to the floor. He leans down over him and smiles smugly, but his brother just grins, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You have made things worse for yourself; I can reach you better from here.”

As he says it, his hand comes up between Ezio’s legs cupping him gently through his tight trousers and Ezio cannot help but arch down into the feeling, a half-formed reply on his lips, not managing to escape, as he finds himself unable to even breathe. Federico looks like the cat that got the cream and he thinks nothing of rolling off of him and moving away, out of his reach. Federico laughs as he sits up, legs splayed wide open, arms behind him holding himself up. He leans back slightly, body shielding Ezio from seeing exactly what he’s up to, but it takes even Ezio by surprise when he suddenly tosses a bottle towards him.

He catches it in one hand and only glances away from his brother long enough to read the label; it’s the oil to remove the paint over his body. He throws it back at Federico and lies flat upon his back, even as he speaks.

“You made the mess, you clear it up.”

He hears the rasp of soft cotton against the floor as Federico shifts closer before his brother’s face comes into sight, his eyes flashing dangerously with humour.

“I will not use this to clean you,” he murmurs and before Ezio can escape, he finds himself pinned once more under Federico’s weight. He rocks, attempting to throw Federico off, but his thighs clench tightly at Ezio’s waist, holding on easily. He grins as he pops the cap off and lets the first squirt of oil splash across Ezio’s stomach, cool wetness spreading upon his skin of its own accord. Ezio flinches, but remains still when Federico sets the bottle down and follows the liquid with his hands, heat melting into his muscles. He rubs them up over the length of Ezio’s chest, smudging the paint but not removing it as his fingers massage more than anything.

Ezio says nothing, but his eyes slip shut and he lets the feeling of relaxation wash over him, flowing all the way down to his toes. Federico’s hands are surprisingly talented as he presses against aching muscles, soothing them with soft touches before moving on to the next patch of sore skin. He hisses in shock as Federico pinches at his nipples and hears him laugh deeply in response.

“Do not fall asleep, brother,” Federico says. “I have plans for you yet, unless you’re still insisting that you haven’t given in.”

Ezio is seconds away from arguing with him, until Federico’s thumbs slide below his navel, rubbing the skin under the waistband of his trousers and stealing his thoughts away. Despite that, Federico still pauses, waiting for Ezio’s true response, his consideration far exceeding Ezio’s expectations. He thinks carefully, his eyes never leaving Federico’s own as he debates with himself internally, and he takes a deep breath before tilting his head, silently giving permission to his brother.

Federico leans down and Ezio doesn’t even think before meeting him part of the way, their mouths sliding together softly, lips parted, but the kiss surprisingly chaste. Ezio tangles his fingers into his brother’s hair, holding him down even as Federico’s oiled hands move to undo the ties of his trousers, pulling them open without stopping and Ezio digs his shoulder into the floor as he lifts his hips and lets his brother tug the material down his legs, leaving him bare, but not at all self-conscious. When his trousers get far enough down, he’s able to kick them off, never once breaking their kiss.

With one hand by Ezio’s face, Federico kneels over his thighs, fingers dragging and teasing against tender skin until he finally wraps his palm around Ezio’s cock, stroking and slicking him at the same time. Ezio arches into the touch, his noises of pleasure muffled by Federico’s mouth, and it’s with an easy flick of his wrist that his brother’s hand falls into a steady rhythm, one that has him completely hard in under a minute. He prides himself on his stamina, but at the rate he is going, he knows it won’t be long until he releases.

His hips roll into the movements and Federico’s body rocks with each rise and fall, the way his brother kneels revealing how he’s straining within his trousers, silently begging to be freed. Ezio attempts to slide his palm down, to rub gently through the material and soothe some of Federico’s discomfort, but his brother catches his wrist before he can touch him, holding it by Ezio’s own erection.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” Federico orders and Ezio pauses, his mind overflowing with thoughts, and he only just has enough strength to wrap his hand around his brother’s own, resting for a moment before he finally takes control. He tightens Federico’s grip slightly then begins stroking himself hard and fast, clenching his fingers lightly each time he reaches the leaking tip. His brother laughs and follows Ezio’s lead easily. “You like it rough then?”

“Are you truly surprised?”

Federico smirks and leans down for a soft kiss.

“I suppose not,” he replies against Ezio’s mouth before deepening it with a swipe of his tongue. When he eventually pulls away, leaving Ezio gasping quietly, he stares down at him as though wanting to ask for something he doesn’t think he’ll be allowed. Ezio pulls his hand away, leaving Federico to continue alone, before sliding it behind his brother’s neck, resting it there easily.

“What is it?” he asks eventually and Federico slows his strokes gently, until stopping all together.

“Allow me just one thing,” he says and Ezio immediately shakes his head.

“No,” he says quickly. “The last time you said that, we ended up here.”

“Then let us end up elsewhere,” he murmurs, distracting him with a slow kiss that he feels all through his chest. Ezio sighs after a moment and shakes his head again, disappointed with himself and unsure why he allows himself to be so easily swayed.

“If I say stop, you stop.”

“Of course,” Federico answers, slipping off of Ezio and pushing his legs apart to kneel between them instead, his fingers gently massaging his inner thighs, drawing all thought from his mind. “But you must mean it.”

Ezio frowns, but doesn’t reply, mostly intrigued by what his brother has in mind. Federico reaches for the bottle of oil, spilling more over his hands before setting it aside once again and rubbing his palms together. Ezio expects another massage, or possibly the continuation of his brother’s earlier work on his erection, but instead, he gasps as Federico wraps one hand around his cock at the same time he slips a finger inside him. Ezio twists against the feeling, his mouth automatically falling open.

“Stop!” he says, but his brother doesn’t even flinch.

“You have to mean it,” he replies as he curls the finger inside of Ezio and Ezio freezes, eyes widening, staring at Federico in shock as another, sharper pleasure trickles down his spine. “Still want me to stop?”

If Ezio had the strength, he’d punch his brother and make him feel it, but he doesn’t and instead grapples at the floor under his body, fingers aching as they scrape repeatedly over the unresisting stone below. He rocks into Federico’s movements, his body tensing far before it should, but his brother seems to sense it and slows his hands, holding his release at bay, despite Ezio’s groan of annoyance.

“Not yet,” he explains, shifting on his position and pushing Ezio’s legs further apart. “You’ve hardly felt anything yet.”

As he says it, he slides another finger inside of Ezio and Ezio finds himself raising his right leg and slipping it over Federico’s shoulder, tugging him down slightly with a quiet noise of need. He bucks upwards, both of Federico’s hands offering pleasure as he does so, his own thighs shaking with each shift.

Federico’s touches are gentle as he thrusts two fingers into him, allowing his body to adjust to the intrusion and Ezio can’t believe he’s flat on his back, breaking the law with his brother. He stares at Federico, his head back and mouth open as he pants softly, and Federico watches him in return, a look on his face that Ezio has never seen before, an expression of true desire, as though he has all he’s ever wanted.

“Let me touch you,” Ezio says, but his brother shakes his head.

“My own need isn’t important. I will do what I must only after you have spent and can’t move for exhaustion.”

Ezio grunts, body already feeling heavy with tiredness, but he reaches out, fingers hooking on the open collar of Federico’s shirt, tugging briefly before slipping free once more. He grins as though pleased with Ezio’s enthusiasm, but doesn’t move any closer. Ezio slips his other foot around Federico’s waist and lifts his hips, pulling himself onto his fingers at a faster pace, drawing a deep laugh from his brother.

“Anyone would think you wanted this,” he teases, speeding his hand up. “Here I was thinking you wanted me to stop.”

Ezio wishes he could kiss his brother, if only to bite his tongue for him, but he settles for digging his teeth into his own bottom lip, silencing himself except for his uneven breaths which escape loudly.

The hand around his cock tightens, returning to the pace Ezio taught Federico earlier, and the anticipation of release sits low in his stomach. He feels it tugging at the base of his length, his sac drawing closer to his body as he begins to cant upwards, destroying his brother’s steady rhythm. He meets Federico’s gaze, watching wordlessly as his brother’s hands encourage him further and it’s when the third finger slips inside, stretching him wide and letting the burn ache through his body, that he tenses completely, legs squeezing Federico’s chest as he comes across his own stomach, leaving sticky trails over his skin as his cock twitches against his brother’s palm.

Federico doesn’t stop until Ezio’s body sags against the floor, trembling from the sensitivity, breathing hard to calm his racing heart. He slides his fingers free of Ezio’s body and releases Ezio’s length, letting it fall gently back against his thigh as it slowly softens. Ezio grumbles, not even knowing himself what he means, but he doesn’t care because Federico finally unfastens his own trousers and tugs his cock free, allowing Ezio to run his gaze over the reddened length and glistening tip. It looks as though his brother is seconds away from his own release and he watches silently as Federico wraps a hand around himself, stroking quickly, leaving no doubt in Ezio’s mind about how he likes to be touched.

Ezio lifts his hand, trailing his fingers down one of Federico’s thighs, drawing a shudder from him that turns into a quick thrust of his hips and he doesn’t have to think before curling his hand around Federico’s own, helping to stroke with an ease he’s sure he only has because of his exhausted mind. Federico’s free hand falls to Ezio’s shoulder, gripping tightly as he leans forward, his breaths shallow and fast as though balancing on the edge of release. Ezio runs his thumb over the tip of Federico’s cock and his brother lets out a sharp noise, bucking forward and coming over Ezio’s stomach, his seed mixing warmly with Ezio’s own cooling mess.

He strokes until Federico finally pulls his hand away, his fingers visibly shaking as Ezio lets his own arm fall back to his side, and he allows his brother to fall forwards onto his elbows, his kneeling stance stopping them from making a further sticky tangle of their bodies. Federico turns his head, pressing his lips to the skin just under Ezio’s ear, and sighs, sounding sated and entirely too pleased with himself. Ezio shifts until he can slide their mouths together and his brother feels completely boneless against him, lips slow in keeping up with the pace he sets.

Eventually he pulls away and Federico murmurs quiet nonsense into the curve of his shoulder.

“We should bathe,” Ezio suggests ignoring his brother and slowly Federico sits up, nodding in agreement.

“I will wash the – ” Federico cuts himself off suddenly and Ezio grunts as a hand presses heavily against his chest while his brother leans over him, reaching for something. “The bottle must have tipped over,” Federico says, laughter in his voice as he holds up what’s left of the oil, which is about two drops. “My artwork will be forever stained onto your skin.”

Ezio blinks slowly before he lets his face darken.

“You had better hope for your sake that it comes off easily,” he growls, arm shooting to the side and drawing back with the matted, forgotten paintbrush Federico used on him. He paints a long green line down Federico’s cheek before he can shy away and his brother laughs loudly, hand coming up to touch the mark.

“The sentiment is mutual,” Federico replies before pressing his mouth to Ezio’s and silencing them both.


End file.
